Appreciating the Euphemism
by bleachTHEsky
Summary: A day-in, day-out collection of moments from His Majesty Shibuya Yuuri, 27th Maou's, life and adventures.    Chapter 1  Gwendal : There was only one time he ever shook hands with a person he wasn't attempting to size up, or otherwise break down.
1. Handshake

**-**** Appreciating the Euphemism -**

**Chapter 1:** Handshake  
><strong>Character(s): <strong>Conrart, Gwendal, Yuuri; mentions of Murata, Ulrike  
><strong>Chapter Summary: <strong>There was only one time he ever shook hands with a person he wasn't attempting to size up, or otherwise break down.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> No copyright infringement intended. All rights go to the legal owners and creators of Kyou Kara Maou!; Geneon, Tomo Takabayashi, et cetera.  
><strong>Song<strong>: _There She Goes_ by The La's  
><strong>Additional Notes:<strong> My first published fic EVAR! … This will probably just be a compilation of somewhat pointless ravings. Anyways, critiques are welcomed (:

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><p>Gwendal was skilled at intimidation, and adept at incorporating it into the many aspects of his career. Take handshaking, for instance. Throughout his lifetime, he had shaken the hands of many a foreign diplomats, and was able to analyze the person thoroughly depending on how they reacted to his grip. His grip was, after all, unaccountably formidable— capable of shaking the greasy facade of an over-confident nobleman, relaying his unshakeable nature to those with rebellious streaks, and, for allies, assuring them of his strength and fortitude in negotiations.<p>

There was only one time he ever shook hands with a person he wasn't attempting to size up, or otherwise break down. He had been hurrying down the dimly lit corridors of Blood Pledge Castle, making his way towards the conference room in face of the instant summons the Great Sage had issued. It was hardly dawn yet, and the sun was tucked away amongst a blanket of fog, making the windows scarcely useful for allowing any light into the stone fortress.

As he walked, attempting to stave away the impending headache that accompanied most Maou-related incidences, he came across his brother, walking in the opposite direction.

"Conrart, you are aware that we have been summoned by the Great Sage?"

Conrart nodded, but made no move to alter directions. "Yes. We were headed there when the need for a lavatory presented itself."

Gwendal's brow furrowed in consternation; he was thrown off by something his brother had said. "We?" he echoed questioningly. Just then, a small squeak originated from somewhere behind Conrart's right elbow. It was then that the elder brother noticed the large, wide black eyes staring out at him.

"Yuuri, won't you come out and introduce yourself?" Conrart asked kindly, raising his arm to reveal that a very small, very childlike version of the Maou was hiding behind him in fear. The child-Yuuri made no move to step out of the man's protective sphere, and instead buried his face into the man's side.

Conrart— who appeared supremely unapologetic— smiled exasperatedly down at Yuuri before redirecting his attentions to his brother. "He was a bit shy when he was younger," he supplied. Gwendal could tell that his brother didn't mind the child clinging to him one bit. In fact, he looked rather proud.

"What happened?" Gwendal finally managed, blinking down at the four-foot-tall child in astonishment, the only trait giving him away a messy mop of coal black hair.

Conrart, who had been patting the child's shoulder soothingly, immediately straightened. "It seems Heika was visiting the Great Sage at Shinou's Temple when he caught wind of a mild disturbance in town. Apparently, villagers were randomly being transformed into child-versions of themselves," he paused, letting his brother absorb this.

"When did this begin?" Gwendal asked, briskly starting off towards the conference room, and motioning for his brother to do to the same. After murmuring some words to Yuuri, Conrart followed, albeit at a slower pace to accommodate the child shuffling along behind him. Yuuri warily cast glances at Gwendal every now and again, seeming at once both curious and apprehensive about the man with whom Conrart was talking so familiarly. All the other people who they had come across, Yuuri recalled, had made some sort of hand-gesture to the man, politely bowing their heads. Never did they speak directly to him.

"Early into the morning, just before the Great Sage himself summoned us," Conrart said, easing the other man's steadily stiffening shoulders. As if sensing his brother's irritation, he quickly added, "He made it here as soon as possible to inform us, after stabilizing Ulrike-sama. Her… repressed ambitions seem to have manifested themselves once more. They have been on a childhood-inducing quest since then; I can't imagine Shinou-heika's slumber has been easy for her." Neither of them spoke of it, but they both clearly remembered the similar predicament Ulrike's incarnation had put them in last time.

Gwendal just grunted, and hastened his pace slightly, when a small and light voice filtered through the silence.

"Connie?"

"Yes, Yuuri?"

"… Who is that?"

Conrart chuckled lightly and stopped, the conference chamber just around the corner. Gwendal hesitated before also halting, turning slightly to face the pair. Despite the urgency of the situation (a child could not rule a kingdom) the utter cuteness also swayed him.

"This man is Gwendal von Voltaire; he is very important to this country. You could say he handles many things so that others won't have to." A bit mollified by his brother's over-simplified summary, the man's shoulders relaxed a bit more, his face softening as Yuuri poked his head out from behind Conrart once more. The child appeared impressed, but still unwilling to approach the towering figure. His bright onyx eyes were shining with awe, small mouth slightly ajar. Gwendal's lips twitched.

Cheeks flushing slightly, and a bit put out to know he would not have the opportunity to cradle something so overwhelmingly cute and squishy, he cleared his throat and moved to finish the short walk to the room when he heard his brother speak up once more, tone soft and fond. "He is also my brother."

Yuuri immediately brightened, and peeked out from behind Conrart's arm, which he still fervently clung to. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and bounced out to meet Gwendal, eyes alight with new understanding. Gwendal dropped down to one knee so that the young child would not feel threatened. But Yuuri, grinning brilliantly, looked far from it.

He approached Gwendal and thrust out a chubby hand, prime for shaking. Surprised, Gwendal acquiesced, sure to monitor the amount of strength the boy used in order to assure he, in turn, did not squeeze too hard. "I have a brother too. His name's Shouri. You look kind of like him," Yuuri commented, and pointedly reached up to press two fingers against the man's furrowed brow. Finding himself without suitable words, Gwendal did not reply.

But Yuuri's face suddenly sobered. He retracted his hand from Gwendal's face, and instead placed it on the man's hand, which was resting on his upraised knee.

"You should really smile more, y'know?" he said seriously. And after a moment's thought, "You'd look really pretty!"

Gwendal spluttered, and Conrart was unable to suppress the bubble of happiness, slowly expanding in his chest, which caused him to laugh.

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><p>AN: Know it's been done before, but I love the idea. -coos at the utter cute-


	2. Sanctuary

**-**** Appreciating the Euphemism –**

**Chapter 2:** Sanctuary  
><strong>Character(s): <strong>Gwendal, Yuuri, mentions of Günter  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> A pinch of canonical Günter x Yuuri (which can be ignored, but never disproved).  
><strong>Chapter Summary: <strong>Yuuri found himself poking his head into the military General's working quarters, seeking sanctuary.  
><strong>Song:<strong> _Homewrecker_ by Hellogoodbye  
><strong>Additional Notes:<strong> I intended this to be earlier on in the series, considering Gwendal and Yuuri's interactions.

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><p>At first, Yuuri didn't think he would ever become used to Shin Makoku. It was like a video game; a surreal universe he could enter and leave, but never allow to mingle with reality. At that time Japan had still been his home, and it was homework- not paperwork- that plagued his thoughts deep into the night.<p>

But somewhere along the line, between boy-king and Maou, things changed. It didn't take the compassionate boy long to realize that the role he played in this new world was no game, and that his decisions relayed serious consequences. It took him less, still, to recognize that the people of Shin Makoku were extremely important to him- and very much real. The people he relied so much on every day, his dearest and most-trusted companions, were constantly at his side guiding him through manners both firm and patient. It was Yuuri's bond with these people that led him to discover more about his not-so-foreign country, and come to think of it as home.

He developed a habitual residence there, and his presence in Blood Pledge was both natural and comfortable. He learned how to best avoid paperwork, and when to (attempt) to calm a certain incensed fiancé. And just as he thought he'd never adjust to this world full of blatant homosexuality and vegetarian sharks, he so never imagined he would ever get accustomed to Günter von Christ's incessant wailing.

Eventually, Yuuri learned, one _had_ to get used to it. It actually became a sign of fair luck for the young king. Everyone knew von Christ's wails, not to be confused with his screams and/or hysterical sobbing, which were usually triggered by Yuuri's ill fortune, bemoaned an evening of comfort- times of ease and lazy afternoons. These things were an understandably precious commodity in the lives of a king and his men.

There is such a thing as a headache, however, and it is the wretched enemy of a Yuuri-deprived Günter (and in extension, Günter's wails). Although Yuuri adored his adjutant, he was simply too much to handle at times. Which is why he found himself, inexplicably anxious, poking his head into the Chief of State's working quarters. In essence, he was seeking sanctuary. For when one wants a few moments of silence, and one has managed to escape the grasp of one's flailing mentor, there is no better place to be than Gwendal von Voltaire's office.

The General immediately noticed the boy's presence, and gently set down his quill beside the documents that had been monopolizing his attention for the past two hours. It was well past noon, and the only reason the older man had allowed Yuuri to skimp out on his paperwork thus far was because he was informed the young king would be spending the entire afternoon with Günter, catching up on the month and a half he had been on Earth. Needless to say, Gwendal found himself wondering why the boy was _here _and not _there_.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. Under the man's weighty stare, Yuuri seemed to crumple a bit. "I was wondering if… well, it's just that, you know how Günter gets, and…" he trailed off, scrambling to remember the monologue he'd worked up in the three minutes it took to run here.

"I realize that Günter may be a bit… over-enthused at your return, but it is your duty as King to learn the history of your country," Gwendal bit out. After a moment's pause he then waved the boy in, finding his hovering at the doorway unnerving.

Yuuri quickly acquiesced, and took a few steps closer to Gwendal's large oak desk, one of the primary pieces of furniture in the room which had only work-related necessities. He glanced up at Gwendal, a sheepish glint in his obsidian black eyes.

"I'm not trying to take the day off or anything. I've just… got a bit of a headache," he explained with a wince. It wasn't a lie—he could feel the veins in his head pulsating, and there was a dull pounding in his ears.

Ah. _That_ Gwendal understood, especially since the boy was with Günter. While the advisor was usually a fairly level-headed person, he had the tendency to overreact to anything pertaining to Yuuri (if His Wails and fluttering about when the king wasn't at his hip were any indication). He wasn't sure why he said it, but…

"So long as you maintain silence, you may remain here until the pain recedes."

Yuuri immediately shone with an open-mouthed grin- silence was what he _needed_- and settled into a chair by the window, behind his General.

"Thank you," the teenager mumbled, leaning his head against the chair's upholstered back, eyes going half-mast as he stared lazily out at his countryside.

The General merely grumbled a reply and returned to his work, paying no heed to the other silent occupant of the room until what must have been a fair while later, for when Gwendal paused to notice, the sun had trekked its way through the sky and was casting a golden-red glow through his window. Yuuri spoke, suddenly, and broke the relatively companionable silence.

"Gwendal. Where does Günter usually end up… when he's upset?"

Gwendal froze in horror as the sudden, distinguishable sound of harried footsteps caught his ear. Even more distinguishable was the intensely distressed voice which called out for Yuuri.

Just once, Yuuri had thought that Gwendal's office would be the best place to seek refuge when he pried himself from Günter's arms. Günter's thoughts revolved around the same impression, but for entirely different reasons. After all, he could never forget the time he burst into his colleague's office, in tears, only to find his King frightened and huddled in the corner. And while Gwendal claimed that it 'wasn't what it looked like,' and that he had not, in fact, abducted the king from him, Günter prided himself on his intelligence. From that point on, he _knew_ where to start his search for the slippery young lad.

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><p>AN: So, I guess that's my silly little explanation of why Günter always ends up seeking out poor Gwen. You know. Besides the fact that he's in total denial of his love.


	3. Tradition

**-**** Appreciating the Euphemism -**

**Chapter 3****:** Tradition; connected to _Sanctuary_  
><strong>Character(s): <strong>Gwendal, Yuuri; mentions of Wolfram  
><strong>Chapter Summary: <strong>Both King and subject sat in that same position for what surely was hours, basking in the semi-silence.  
><strong>Song<strong>: _Can't Take It In_ by Imogen Heap  
><strong>Additional Notes:<strong> I imagine this as further along in Season 2, but any time after _Sanctuary_ is feasible.

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><p>"I never noticed before... the sky turns almost black, right around where the sun sets..."<p>

Gwendal simply had no reply to that. He had never looked out at the sun as it set. He was always working while the sun set. But he had seen the sun rise, many times in his life, and never before had he thought much of it. It was a marker of a new day, the passing of time and planning of schedules—nothing more. But as he cast a brief glance back towards his king, who seemed deep in contemplations, he wondered what Yuuri saw in sun rises. He took in the teenager's profile: mussed black hair framing his cheeks and long, dark lashes curling towards his brow, and heard a voice akin to Wolfram's urging him to see the art of it all. Gwendal didn't think that Yuuri had much of an aptitude for art, but the boy had inadvertently managed to make his diligent General ruminate over sunrises and sunsets long enough that the quill in his hand was slack and in serious danger of dropping.

Yuuri's voice resonated loudly, disbelief saturating it through. "Gwendal," he admonished playfully. "Are you _daydreaming_?" Gwendal, blushing lightly, quickly cleared his throat and refocused his eyes on his paperwork, which simply wasn't distracting him from his inner musings. He inwardly bloodied himself to a mushy pulp. He'd been daydreaming, for Shinou's sake! And gotten caught!

_Since when is he so… discerning? Since when am I so spacey?_

Yuuri was valiantly fighting down a smile, not wanting to embarrass the other man. "Sorry, Gwendal— your only requirement was for me not to talk. Guess I toasted that one." He turned to share his smile with the General-

- who, already back in work mode, was pointedly ignoring him. A small bloom of color settled on Yuuri's cheeks, and he leaned back into his stationed chair.

"But still…" he continued after a long lapse, oblivious to the disjointed nature of his words, "Sunsets here are beautiful. Back in Japan, they're pretty monochrome. But there are so many colors here." It was just so easy to keep talking. Gwendal didn't seem nearly as menacing as he once had. And while Yuuri knew that the man listened to him out of respect, he could tell that his silence was not an annoyed one.

At least, he _hoped_ it wasn't. On second thought, he was probably ignoring him for a reason. After another moment's pause, Yuuri stood uncertainly. "Ah, Gwendal… sorry about this… my headache is pretty much gone now, so I guess I should-"

"Heika." Gwendal interrupted.

Yuuri blinked. "Uh… yes?"

"Did you not come here for silence?" the man asked, turning his head to pin the boy a glance. While he had grown used to the young man's nature, he found that Yuuri's constant attempts to make him feel comfortable were far from _comforting_. In fact, they rather reminded him of one tall, lavender-haired man. Yuuri hesitated only a moment before he chuckled self-consciously and plopped back down.

"Right, Gwendal. Sorry, Gwendal." Gwendal briefly wondered why the boy felt it necessary to say his name in such rapid successions. And after that momentary indulgence, he fell back into his work. But even after the sun had set, and Wolfram had come asking for his fiancé, and Gwendal had finished three monstrous stacks of paperwork, setting aside more for the king to peruse tomorrow—which he _would_ do— Gwendal didn't ask Yuuri to leave, and Yuuri continued to periodically break the man's one request, even after his supposed headache faded away.

Both king and subject sat in that same position for what surely was hours, basking in the semi-silence. They had both come to the mutual understanding that, at this point, Yuuri did not uphold this particular tradition for the sake of his health.

Gwendal simply always made a point to leave his door ajar.

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><p>AN: For some reason these have all had a partial focus on Gwendal... the next one doesn't have him in it, though. DIVERSITY FTW.


	4. Duty

**Chapter 4:** Duty  
><strong>Character(s): <strong>Conrart, Yuuri, Gisela, Wolfram, mentions of Gwendal  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Can be construed as ConYuu or simply platonic.  
><strong>Chapter Summary: <strong>He could feel it pumping through his veins, roaring in his ears, seeping through the very pores of his skin. He knew this feeling.  
><strong>Additional Notes:<strong> Wow, okay, this took a while. BUT, I have the next two chapters already finished and I have an awesome excuse! Would you like to hear it? Of course not. _Blame the Homestuck._ Any feedback/constructive criticism welcome. (:

Yuuri couldn't remember exactly when the atmosphere changed, when their light-hearted outing became terrifying. One moment Wolfram was lightly pulling him towards a booth filled with scented soaps, laughing quietly in his ear, and then Conrart was pushing him protectively behind him- with a terse request to _remain_ _there_. The transition was fuzzy, and vaguely disorienting in its quickness.

One thing Yuuri could never forget was the expression of absolute helplessness that engulfed Conrart's features the moment before his own vision blinked and died.

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><p>Lately, Yuuri had been valiantly attempting to get all workloads resolved within the week of their arrival. It was becoming readily obvious that he was growing up, and with this came the monarch's awareness that he had a tendency to neglect certain duties. Perhaps he had noticed before, but had simply never cared. It had always been something he considered Gwendal's job. So Gwendal was not only impressed, but also fairly proud, when his young charge entered their shared office one morning, sat in his chair, and began to process the paperwork before him without qualms. This novelty quickly became procedure, and while it gave Yuuri no extra happiness it bestowed a certain fulfillment— he was doing his part for the kingdom that was his.<p>

The Maou was working harder than ever before to become more proficient in the tedious tasks that accompanied his profession, but he was restless. They could all sense it. At least, those who knew him well enough. Yozak could see it in the boy's weary eyes, when he sauntered in for a briefing or a quick hello. Wolfram anxiously nagged his fiancée, worried the boy's care-free disposition might slip away from him. Conrart suggested that they go out for a few hours, simply to visit the bazaar and enjoy the countryside.

Yuuri was instantly excited at the prospect and, sensing Wolfram's hesitation, gently asked the blonde if he'd like to accompany them. Mollified, the boy insisted that he'd allow it no other way. The three waited for a day when the Maou's work was not suffocating in its excessiveness, informed Gwendal of their intentions, and stole the rest of the evening to simply have _fun_. The very thought filled the young king with such a warmth— his retainers really cared about and valued him. Not just as a king, but as a person.

Sometimes, tension had the instinct of falling between Conrart and Wolfram when Yuuri was present. It had grown lesser and lesser throughout the years, but it still happened at times. Not this night. The three of them blended into such a perfect camaraderie, Yuuri couldn't believe how natural it felt— Wolfram teasing him, then defending himself with gusto while Conrart pretended to mediate between the two. The maou felt a small pang of sadness that it could not always be this way between them, but perhaps that would be just another thing he would strive to work for.

Suddenly, just as Wolfram was pointing out some tempting bath products, Yuuri felt Conrart go stiff beside him. He looked up at the soldier with a question in his eyes, but received no answer. Wolfram and Conrart exchanged short glances, and then were both subtly exposing their swords— letting the hidden but obviously present threat know that they were both armed and experienced. Apparently it didn't matter. There was one startled shriek, and then another, as suddenly the marketplace was filled with masked men— dropping from the tops of buildings, emerging from the alleys, all brandishing cruelly curved sabers fit for gutting any creature. The civilians scrambled, terrified, but they had no need. The eyes of every one of those men fell directly to none other than Yuuri.

"This was a mistake," Wolfram muttered angrily.

"Heika, please stay behind me," Conrart said, but Yuuri knew it wasn't a request. How these men knew he was the Maou was beyond him; they were donned, head to toe, in proper disguises. He simply prayed that they wouldn't cut down an unfortunate civilian on their path to him.

Then chaos broke out. He was surrounded by a flurry of angry clashes, metal against metal, and Conrart was slowly trying to back Yuuri into the stall, so he could jump behind it and hide, while simultaneously fighting off three men. But Yuuri was violently ripped away from his protector, the hand wrapped firmly around his tunic giving him the worst whip-lash he's ever experienced. He heard a sudden voice— Yozak, he guessed he shouldn't be surprised the spy pretty much dogged his tracks everywhere now—yell out in anger. Yuuri twisted painfully in the grasp that strangled him, attempting to dislodge the firm grip, but to no avail. The assailant grunted and snapped the back of his saber against Yuuri's skull. He heard a sickening crack, and cried out in the wave of pain that followed. His vision blurred dangerously, maddeningly, but then it focused. He saw everything.

A man slipped right between Wolfram and Yozak, who were both out-numbered and taxed to capacity, and right up behind Conrart. Before the soldier could defend his flank, the man made a quick slice with his saber and Conrart went down, onto the ground, where the man proceeded to stamp his boots viciously down onto his chest. Over and over and over again, until Yuuri could see blood drip from his soldier's mouth and side. In that moment, an indescribable amount of panic Yuuri had never felt before overtook him. He could feel it pumping through his veins, roaring in his ears, seeping through the very pores of his skin. He knew this feeling.

The Maou let out a furious roar. The man detaining him flew backwards into the building and landed in a heap against the ground, unmoving. The Maou paid no heed to this. He flew towards the only sight he was capable of seeing: Conrart, on the earth, blood spilled and eyes clenched in debilitating pain. He was running on pure instinct. Vague shouts and screams of his name fell on deaf ears. He didn't think twice before he dropped to his knees and threw himself over the body of his soldier, shielding him from the incoming blows. The boot fell on him, fast and hard, exactly three times before his vision sputtered and went dark.

When the Maou had appeared, brilliant and wrathful, maryouku bathed his body like a pulsating cloak, and for a moment it was all the men could do but freeze in awe. They had heard of this before of course, it was part of what convinced them he was valuable enough to risk coming after, but they had never seen it in person. Taking this fleeting advantage, Yozak and Wolfram sent all remaining opponents face first to the dirt. They both then turned to the masked man who was now assaulting their king with absolute rigor, renewed in his feeling of desperate abandon, the wild look in his eyes betraying his fear.

Yozak tackled the man to the ground and silenced him with a fierce growl, while Wolfram rushed to their two comrades who lay prone on the ground, healing maryouku already brightening his fingertips and illuminating the tears on his face.

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><p>When Yuuri startled awake, the first thing he noticed was the splitting headache. The second thing he noticed was the sharp pain between his ribs, like the time he had fallen off the monkey-bars when he six, only much stronger. The third thing he noticed was that this was absolutely too much pain to be feeling sitting up, so he slowly lowered himself back down to the pillow, biting his lip to block the whimpers he knew would be come.<p>

Then he noticed voices, hushed and urgent, coming from outside the door. He couldn't place the voices; his head… it hurt very badly. Suddenly the door opened, and a very harried Gisela stepped into the room. When she saw he was awake, she flashed him a smile and shut the door quietly behind her.

"I apologize, Heika. Did we wake you?"

Yuuri tried to shake his head— really, he did— but all he could manage was a small moan when he tried. He had to snap his eyes shut to stave off the wave of sudden nausea that poured over him.

Gisela sighed with sympathy, and when Yuuri felt well enough, he peeked up at her. Her eyes were soft but her mouth was a hard line across her delicate face. Yuuri thought she looked mad.

"Do not attempt to move, please, Heika. I need to check up on your recuperation." She sat down in a wicker chair, already positioned by the bed, and gently took the king's wrist for a pulse. After a few moments she moved her hand to the back of Yuuri's head, asking him to tilt it slightly when her access was obstructed by the pillow.

"You had a concussion, you know, and two broken ribs."

Yuuri didn't know how to respond to that. He couldn't think very well, he thought, so he tried not to think at all. It just hurt too much.

"We've already re-set your ribs, but I'm afraid there is not much I can do about the concussion. You'll need to remain awake, Heika, so I'll have to ask you to take this…" she gestured to a cup of something-or-another that was sitting on his bedside table, waiting for him he supposed, and pushed it closer to the bed at his confused expression. More voices came from outside the door, deeper and lower this time. Gisela glanced at the door once, and then hesitated slightly, looking like she wished to say something. It was a look Yuuri often received from a certain blonde he knew, so he threw the medic a gallant attempt at his regular lop-sided grin before he said, "Go ahead."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "A king should always consider his safety a priority. If something were to happen to the king, the country would fall to chaos. A king should _always_ put his safety first… but you…" her brow creased as her voice lowered to almost a whisper, so low that Yuuri's head hurt trying to separate it from the murmurs outside the room. His room, he suddenly realized, running his fingers idly over the silk blankets.

"I think you made an admirable decision. I… I would have done the same thing."

Yuuri was a little shocked. He'd never known her to show such rashness before. Then his thoughts drifted to _that_ moment, and he shakily grabbed the mug and took a few tentative sips. He didn't know if it would help the sudden pounding behind his eyes, or the fuzzy texture to his thoughts, but he needed to do something with his hands.

Gisela smiled and stood up, the picture of smooth efficiency as she brushed out her creaseless uniform. "The medicine will keep you awake, but it should also help with the pain. There are many people who wish to see you, Heika, but I think it prudent that you should relax a bit before you have visitors."

When the door suddenly opening behind her, Gisela's smile became a tad bit warmer. "Although… maybe just one would be alright." With that the woman flashed one more brilliant smile, bowed, and turned to exit the room. She closed the door softly behind her, and suddenly Yuuri felt that the room was very full. Much, much too full. He glanced at Conrart, a bit nervous. He didn't understand the look on Conrart's face.

It was the look that he gave visiting dignitaries; completely benign, but so, so wrong on his face. At least while he was looking at Yuuri.

The man sat gingerly down on the abandoned chair, and the room fell to quick silence. Yuuri didn't fail to notice the thick, gauzy bandages wrapped around Conrart's middle, sticking out from under his half-open military jacket, and Conrart didn't fail to notice Yuuri's glazed eyes, or the padded bandage covering half the boys head, the way he lay precariously stationed on those two aching ribs, the way his mouth was curved downward miserably- no, Conrart never failed to notice anything about Yuuri.

"What happened?" Yuuri finally asked, voice small and very lost.

Conrart leaned forward slightly in the chair, resting his elbows tiredly on his knees. His eyes were downcast, examining the bed which Yuuri had been confined to for the past two weeks. It had been a punishing two weeks for everyone, but Conrart allowed himself the right to feel he was probably the most affected. Conrart, who's three broken ribs and deep-tissue laceration were healing just fine, while he watched his king lay broken in a bed for two weeks.

He was about to open his mouth to speak. To say _something _that would make Yuuri see that what he had done was wrong, so very wrong. His king stopped him with words of his own, spilling out and tumbling over one another.

"Please don't be angry at me."

Conrart had to pause to process that, partly because the words had been quite muddled and rapid-fire, and partly because despite his king's plea, a flame of anger licked away at his insides. He waited for the fury to calm, not wanting to lie to his king.

"I am not angry, Heika. However I am… displeased." He gave Yuuri the most serious expression he could without revealing the tumultuous emotions he was experiencing. All of the guilt and shame for not protecting him, all of the anger and frustration for the Yuuri's rashness, and all of the warmth for knowing that this boy cared for him so much. Maybe even as much as Conrart cared for him.

"My job is to protect you, Yuuri. If you throw yourself on top of me during a battle, that defeats the purpose of my job." Conrart knew that his king was weak and tired, and probably emotional from the look on his face, so he decided to spare the more extensive version of this talk for a later point in time. But this was something that could not, would not happen again. This was something Yuuri had to understand thoroughly.

What Conrart did not expect was for Yuuri to get angry.

"I was scared! You were going to die, and I was _scared!_ More s-scared than I've ever been, ever, so don't try to tell me I was being irresponsible, o-or that it was your _job_ because that's all you care about-!" his voice caught in his throat as a dry sob wracked his body. Conrart immediately reached over the bed and gathered the boy into his arms delicately, aware of his numerous injuries, and tried not to wince as the boy clung to him desperately.

"I— Oh, god, your ribs… I'm s-sorry, geez, I'm such a…"

Conrart ignored the boy's attempts to relinquish him. Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed and gently guided Yuuri down until his head rested squarely in his lap. He made soothing noises as the boy hiccupped and shivered and pulled the blankets securely around his small frame, stroking his hair until finally the room fell silent.

Conrart didn't know what to say, or where to start, but he tried.

"Yuuri. You are more than a job to me. Surely you realize that?" He ran gentle fingers along the boy's scalp, skating past the bandage to the other side of his head and then back.

"I know that." Yuuri responded instantly. "I know. I just… I lost you once, you know?" He swallowed, trying to force down the lump in his throat, but then deciding it was fine if it stayed there, so long as he didn't cry all over Conrad again. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of it, though the emotion felt so superficial compared to the hundred other things that passed his mind.

Conrart felt the tense bubble in his chest drop like a ball of lead to his stomach. The icy core between his lungs poked him reproachfully, muttered traitorous words in his ears— _your fault, your fault_—

"And once was enough." Yuuri's eyes sought his, then, with an expression that was perfectly unreadable but entirely understood. _I don't know what I would do if something had happened to you…_

"… Because of me," Conrart muttered, after a slight intermission. Yuuri nodded in gentle assent.

Conrart considered this for a while, and the room was pregnant with silence. He looked down at the king who was just a little older than he used to be, just a little wiser, and much braver. Much braver, Conrart thought, than any person he had ever known.

He pressed a light kiss to his king's brow and stood up easily, trying to contain the amused smile that crept up as Yuuri stared at him with wide eyes.

"You will always be my number one priority, Heika. Please remember that for future occasions."


End file.
